This gallery contains 4 photos.
It’s hard to believe I wrote this book in 2011. It was accepted in 2012, but because we had other books that were more ready to be published, we decided One Copper Sky would take a back seat. In the meantime, I had time to rewrite it, which I think I did three times, but I think as writers we are never really done with a manuscript. You just have to put down your pencil (or shut your laptop) and believe you did the best you could. Otherwise there are infinite ways to improve a book, your technique, the flow of the story etc. blah blah blah. It could go on and on! I love this story, its characters, the ideas that came bursting out of my head when I started it. What if we had no sunshine? What if we lived in darkness with artificial light as our only source of illumination and heat? How would our bodies adapt? Bluster Falls is all that is left of California, and there are things that live outside its borders. Monsters that come after Copper Day, (the one day the sun shines per year) are the blackest of dragons yet. Only Summer knows how to kill them, and her secret is beyond anything you ever thought you knew about things that go bump in the night. Noah would die to protect her, but who would protect him from her?
Not your typical love story, One Copper Sky is about fighting for hope in a world where hope is in short supply. This book is not for the lighthearted or squeamish. It’s for people who like something that will keep you on the edge of your seat; its definitely not a fluffy romance. But love is an all-powerful thing, as we already know, and I believe it overcomes many obstacles. Fall in love with Noah’s unfailing determination to gain Summer’s trust, as she doesn’t trust many. Her own losses have her keeping people at arm’s length.
Download the ecopy here. The print version is on its way soon! I hope you enjoy the ride through the darkness in search of the light. There are many surprises to come!
Please take a look at Eri Nelson’s newest release! She’s got a futuristic surprise for you…
“I don’t make excuses, hide behind traditional, nor apologize for who I am as a writer. Writing is an art… some get that and others will spew spite in the faces of those who dare to create.” -Eri Nelson
“I am so not a role model… Beyond the world of normal dwells those who see all things differently.” -Eri Nelson
Eri Nelson is a nontraditional indie author who manages all areas of her fiction, fantasy, paranormal, action, adventure, mystery, SciFi, and sometimes-erotic writing. Eri handles all the groundwork of her books, even the editing. Because of this Eri strives to improve her abilities along with trying to explain to readers her far from traditional sentence structures. However, she will openly admit that typos follow her.
Join Eri and her shadowy side of writing as she takes you along to explore new desire hunger filled worlds where your mind can share in the heat of the read.
First and foremost let me say this—a tonsillectomy at age twenty can be compared to being banished to the gallows and hung by a rope made out of spikes. Or being beheaded by a rusty guillotine. Or having your throat slit wide open by a dull kitchen knife.
Well, maybe I’m being a bit dramatic.
Nevertheless, my daughter’s been on the couch for seven days now, speaking only when necessary, using a series of hand motions to communicate that might give a mime a run for his money. Eating has been an adventure. In the lineup of importance, fluids and pain management have been top of the list, but as soon as her appetite returned, we started giving her tiny portions of Jell-O, applesauce, and mashed potatoes. She’d nibble away until nausea got the best of her. The last couple of days she’s been able to tolerate more solid foods and is sitting up, slowly returning to the land of the living. Her eyes are brightening with newfound liveliness, but she still struggles against the irritating cauterized holes in her throat.
I’ve appreciated the time spent with her, braiding her hair, rubbing her feet. Taking her temperature just like I did when she was little. Her daddy held her hair when she threw up, (he’s the cooler head in the family when it comes to this kind of thing) but I was always on the sidelines ready to administer a cold washcloth and glass of water. The saying rings true. Our children, no matter what age, will always be our babies.
As spring approaches, I’m hopeful she’ll finally get the reprieve she so deserves from the constant stuffy ears, sore throats, and swollen glands that usually come with the season. I pray for health and happiness for all of my kids. Without their peace, I won’t rest.
Happy Halloween!! I can still hear my mother’s voice reading this to us…
Little Orphant Annie’s come to our house to stay, an’ wash the cups an’ saucers up and brush the crumbs away. An’ shoo the chickens off the porch, an’ dust the hearth an’ sweep, an’ make the fire, an’ bake the bread, an’ earn her board an’ keep.
An’ all the other children, when the supper things is done, we set around the kitchen an’ has the mostest fun. A-list’nin’ to the witch-tales that Annie tells about, an’ the Gobblins will get you IF YOU DON’T WATCH OUT!
Once they was a little boy who wouldn’t say his prayers—so when he went to bed at night away up stairs, his mammy heerd him holler an’ his daddy heerd him bawl, an’ when they turned the kivvers down, he wasn’t there at all. An’ they seeked him in the rafter room an’ cubby hole an’ press, an’ seeked him up the chimney-flue, an’ ever’wheres I guess.
But all they ever found was thist his pants a roundabout—an’ the Gobblins will get you IF YOU DON’T WATCH OUT!
An’ once a little girl an’ all us laugh an’ grin, an’ make fun of everyone, an’ all her blood an’ kin. An’ once when they was company an’ old folks was there, she mocked em and she shocked em and said she didn’t care. An’ thist as she kicked her heels an’ turnt to run and hide, they was two big black things a-standin’ by her side. An’ they snatched her through the ceilin’ ‘fore she knowed what she’s about! An’ the goblins will get you IF YOU DON’T WATCH OUT!
An’ little Orphant Annie says when the blaze is blue, an’ the lamplight sputters an’ the wind goes woo-oo, an’ you hear the crickets quit, an’ the moon is gray, an’ the lightnin’ bugs in dew is all squenched away—
You better mind yer parents, an’ yer teachers fond an’ dear, an’ cherish them that love you, an’ dry the orphant’s tear. An’ he’p the poor an’ needy ones ‘at clusters all about. Er the goblins will get you IF YOU DON’T WATCH OUT!
I think I’m having a mild midlife crisis.
But I won’t be running out to buy a corvette any time soon.
So far, the only crazy thing I’ve done is sit my not-so-firm butt down on the dusty garage floor to poke through a “box of old stuff” for the sake of posting something entertaining on Facebook. Well, in doing so I opened up a box of realizations. In that crate of old photos, jewelry, cards, and letters, I found something I’d lost. The younger, much more naive Ellen was staring back at me with brighter eyes and a much smoother smile. And as I thumbed through stacks of poor quality photographs, I realized how time changes people. I’m so not that girl anymore. Nearly thirty years have passed since I posed in a bikini for a stranger (although a legitimate photographer) just because he asked me to. It’s been close to three decades since I rode a scooter on a busy road for miles without a helmet. I’d spend hours in the sun without sunblock! (hence the not so smooth smile)
With that said, I lived my youth wild and free with the wind in my hair, the sun on my face, searching for adventures at every turn. And I’m not done yet. Although I cherish quiet rest way more than I used to and am slowing down physically, I yearn to see new places more than ever.
And might I say another good thing came from the ’80’s’ box besides a newfound appreciation for modern photography. I found one of my favorite old necklaces that I’d loved but forgotten about. Thankfully, with the help of super glue and beads from my mother’s broken necklace, I gave it a fancy face lift. So now when I wear it, I’m carrying a little piece of days gone by and a dash of my mama’s flair all at the same time.
So here is my piece of advice for those who have their pasts packed up and hidden away in the attic: Don’t let those memories collect dust for too long because you never know what treasures you might unearth. It’s a good thing to be reminded of who we were and who we’ve become.